(DRIVER takes out his mobile phone and makes a call, stepping out of earshot, taking his umbrella with him. The other three huddle under JAMES’S umbrella.)

UNCLE GREG: Nah, my brother wisnae much of a giggle. More like the most cynical prick ye’d ever meet. Didnae trust nothin or naebody. Remember when he swore doon there was nae chance Blackburn would win the league? Called ye daft just for suggestin something oot the ordinary might happen.

DAVIE: And when he said there was nae way DVD’s would be mare popular than videos? He was still tapin Corrie on a VHS player till the day he died.

(They all laugh, before a pause.)

JAMES: I remember…he told me there was nae chance Sarah would lose the baby.

(UNCLE GREG puts a hand on JAMES’s shoulder.)

UNCLE GREG: It was a horrible thing, that, James.

JAMES: Aye, I ken. And I swear, I’m no tryin to depress yeese. (with a sad smile) I just mean, I was still glad he said it. It didnae matter that he was wrong. It made me feel better, that he was so sure. Ye want yer da to be like that. Sure.

(The three men nod and the sound of rain is heard louder. DRIVER returns to the group.)

DRIVER: Right. Our other hearse is being used at the minute. We'll need to wait till that funeral's over before we can move the body.

JAMES: Tommy.

DRIVER: What’s that?

JAMES: My da’s name was Tommy.

DRIVER: Aye. Sorry, son.

UNCLE GREG: We cannae be waitin that long. We'll just need tae, we'll just need tae...